Blue Prayer Beads

[Billy]

Blue Prayer Beads

95 beads in total,
a tassel of embroidery floss.
5 pewter beads
separate the remaining 90
blue Dumortierite beads.
A gift from my wife
who's always there to save
a drowning man.

I say, "Allah’u’Abha",
slide a bead left or right
each count until I feel
the tassel that’s like an
artist’s fan brush.

I envision painting a man,
seated, head tilted back
as if he's looking to heaven
though his eyes are closed,
prayer beads clasped
in rough hands.

It's been some time
since I last sat upright,
beads in hand like a rope
to pull me from the abyss.
Facing the east, eyes
closed, feeling my way
bead by bead
along the silk string,
ending where I started.
Another beginning
I can't walk away from
without remembering.

[BobBradshaw]

Terrific poem. A GREAT close. This poem should be a model enjoyed in writing classes. It should be in an anthology. Where are you sending it?

It's been some time
since I last sat upright,
beads in hand like a rope
to pull me from the abyss.
Facing the east, eyes
closed, feeling my way
bead by bead
along the silk string,
ending where I started.
Another beginning
I can't walk away from
without remembering

[CalebMurdock]

I agree that this is a lovely poem, but it also makes me sad because I read from it that you are ill or for some reason house-bound or limited in your movements. (I hope that's not the case.) The final strophe is especially touching and moving. No spots stand out as needing to be fixed.

I suppose it's possible that you are not writing this about yourself, but if you are, I can relate. Between my nonstop atrial fibrillations and my continuous back spasms, I am mostly housebound now. I expect to be gone within a decade, if not sooner. (I don't mean to make your poem about me; I'm just explaining why I relate to it so well.) I've just written a "house-bound" poem of my own. I hope you'll have something to say when I post it.

By the way, for many years I sold beads for a living, and I'm still selling off my stock.

[FranktheFrank]

When will critiquers get it into their heads that a poem is not autobiographical.

This isn't an agony-aunt letter box where people share the horrors of their lives
neither is it a chat site to share problems. It is a poetry forum where people
post most often fictional and/or imaginary poems with a dash of self involvement
in part.

Neither is a place to unload a lifetime of old poems every two days.

[CalebMurdock]

You are obviously talking to me, Frank. First, most of my poems have an autobiographical element in them, and I suspect that is true for most poems that are written. A good poet generally writes about his own experiences.

I posted all those poems because I was angry that the bunch of you were suddenly trying to freeze me out. As I said to Billy, I wanted to see how far you would go in your ugly efforts to get rid of me -- so you ignored about eight of my poems in a row. But why? I didn't do anything to anybody. Bob had a hissy fit over a comment I made that wasn't directed at him, and then he declared he wouldn't critique my poems or read my critiques of his poems -- and what have you done? You took sides, even though there were really no sides to be taken.

My assessment of this board is accurate: A small group of jealous poets who are comfortable with each other and don't like interlopers. The forum needs new blood, and I'm it. Well, I don't like being treated badly, so I've decided to stay -- and I WILL critique any poem that I feel like critiquing.

Only one of the poems I posted was an old poem. I'm doing my best writing in my old age. All of them but one were fairly recent.

Oh oh oh. I just realized what started this all: my posting a luke-warm critique of Bob's poem about the mother on LSD writing to her daughter. That was an honest critique. Knowing that Bob is insecure, so far I have bent over backwards to be complimentary; but I just couldn't compliment that poem. He has written other poems that I loaded heaps of praise on, and even saved on my computer because I liked them so much. Frankly, I've been too nice to you guys.

[FranktheFrank]

I'll say it again, it wrong for us to expect every poem to be autobiographical.

One day I'm a sailor

The next I am a botanist

One day I'm a young girl the next a wizened old mina.

Approach a poem on its merits, never mind who it's about.

[Billy]

Thanks Bob for your enthusiasm and kind response.
Thanks Caleb

[BobBradshaw]

You’re more than welcomed.

[CalebMurdock]

Frank, or Ieuan (is that right?), I don't expect to get criticisms from you after I leave positive feedback on someone else's poem. When you do that, you can expect pushback from me.